Drayco counted the line of cars parked on both sides of the road in front of the Gatewoods’ house. Sixty-five. He never thought he’d be here so soon again after what happened last time. But Maida had assured him the call she took from Gatewood last evening was genuine, and the invitation was not a mistake.
So here he was, unsure of his welcome to the kind of party he hated. Like the last time he came to town, he’d avoided packing a necktie. A pair of black dress slacks and the one short-sleeved silk shirt he brought would have to do. He took a few deep breaths and looked around outside, anything to forestall the inevitable.
On his first trip to visit the Gatewoods, Drayco hadn’t paid much attention to the wooded area opposite the house. Blackened tree stumps spiked the ground like charre
